


Gaskarth For President

by anchvrdown, pagodacom



Series: One Shots With Broccoli and Lil-Bag [2]
Category: All Time Low
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, President, Weed mention, american president, presidential candiate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anchvrdown/pseuds/anchvrdown, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagodacom/pseuds/pagodacom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander William Gaskarth is well on his way to winning the 2016 American Presidential Race and gaining his spot in the Oval Office. However, his husband Jack Barakat is making this process significantly harder with his pathetic excuses for political posters and slogans. Or just maybe, Jack might be the secret to Alex's success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gaskarth For President

**Author's Note:**

> **This entire story is a joke and not intended to be take seriously.**
> 
> This was originally posted to wattpad on Lily's account (coldheartedweirdo) so go check it out there if you have wattpad.  
> Enjoy!

Jack smiled proudly at his husband, clutching a half-full bottle of whiskey in his left hand as Alex waved and walked off stage after a successful rally. The state of Maryland was under Alex’s grasp, Jack just knew it. 

As Alex climbed into the bright pink limo that Jack had insisted on renting, Jack felt a pair of warm lips press against his cheek. Jack blushed and took another big gulp of whiskey. It burned going down his throat, but Jack was positively hammered, he knew it, and he was enjoying it. 

As soon as Alex’s campaign manager, Mark Hoppus, _hopp_ ed into their limo, Jack heard the tires screech as the driver punched the gas pedal, starting on their way to a party. The party was being thrown by one of Jack’s oldest friends Matt, and Alex was tagging along to try to get more people to vote for him. The life of a presidential candidate was hard, despite what a reader may think, long hours talking to endless amounts of people just to ensure a couple hundred more votes. Though Alex was attractive, charismatic and basically perfect, so it wasn’t as hard for him as it might be for other people. 

_*cough* Donald Trump.*cough*_

Jack leaned against Alex as Mark began blabbering about how Alex did at the rally and the statistics of his campaign, bullshit like that. Jack simply zoned out, drank about another quarter of his bottle of whiskey, and waited for the limo to arrive at his Matt’s house.

Just as they were five minutes away from Matt’s house, Jack heard Mark stop talking. Finally. That guy could never keep his mouth shut for more than a second. Shortly after that, Alex started shaking Jack and attempting to pry the bottle out of the skunk-haired man’s hands. Jack moaned in disappointment and tried to grab the bottle of whiskey back out of Alex’s hands, but Alex passed it to Mark, way out of Jack’s reach. Mark would probably end up drinking the rest, he needed it, but that didn’t mean that Jack had to be happy about it.  
This gave Jack nothing else to concentrate on except for his husband, who was desperately trying to get Jack’s attention. 

“Jack! Jack! Snap out of it! I need to talk to you!” Alex whisper-shouted, while attempting to shake Jack back to sanity.

This, however, only caused Jack to feel more out of it as Alex was shaking him and it only made the large nosed man to become quite dizzy. 

After an entire minute of Alex pathetically trying to get Jack to pay attention to him, Alex sighed and began speaking anyway. When Jack was drunk, and he most definitely was now, there was little you could do that would bring him to see sense. 

“So, we need to talk about the signs you made for the campaign. The ones that say ‘Alex Gaskarth is a flaming homo and you should be too,’ and the ones that say ‘Alex Gaskarth says cheating on your partner is okay.’ Especially my normal signs that have photocopied dicks on them.” Alex said sternly. Jack giggled. 

“I think the dicks are pretty.” Jack let out a loud burp before correcting himself. “I think your dick is pretty. I think you’re pretty.” 

Mark shifted uncomfortably at the mention of male genitalia, despite the fact that it was extremely out of character, but Alex seemed unphased by the words that came out of his husband’s mouth.

“I think you’re pretty too, but can we talk about this?” Alex was still hoping that Jack would somehow just start paying attention, but he knew nothing of the sort would be happening.  
“No, silly! That’s way too boring, how about we talk about… dicks?” Jack slurred, giggling even more. 

Alex rolled his eyes, sighing when the car stopped outside Matt’s house. They would just have to talk about it another time.

As soon as the car got to a full stop, Jack untangled himself from Alex and ran threw the open front door at full speed (only stumbling a few times) to find his rat-like friend Matt and make sure he was still a human, then continuing further into the house to find some more alcohol. 

After watching his idiot of a husband disappear into the modest two-story house, Alex reluctantly got up and bid goodbye to Mark, the one person he could really stand for long periods of time. Mark talked a lot about his celebrity crush on the guitarist of Blink 182, Tom Delonge, but Alex didn’t mind. He made better company than a hideously drunk Jack Barakat. 

Before the neon limo could speed away, Alex yelled at Mark to come pick him up at midnight. Alex didn’t want to be at this party for longer than necessary. He would just slip in, talk to some people to boost his campaign, slip out, and make sure to take his husband with him.

The time was nearing ten, and Alex braced himself for whatever horrors the next two hours would bring. He did not have a good feeling about this. 

Upon realizing that he had been standing outside of the house for almost five minutes, lost in thought, Alex braced himself as he walked inside and tried to find the most sober people he could. Not an easy task, but talking to sober people is significantly easier than talking to drunk people, Alex knew that after having to deal with Jack for almost seven years of his life. Sometimes Alex questioned their relationship, but he could never leave Jack, the poor boy led a life that was too dangerous and confusing to live alone. Besides, Jack actually was pretty fun to hang out with sober, but only sober. Drunk Jack was way too much to deal with. 

As soon as Alex stepped inside, he was hit by a wave of crappy dance music and the stench of drunk, sweaty people. Alex scanned the room soon found himself being approached by someone he didn’t know, but that was to be expected. This was Matt’s party, not his own. The stranger was wearing a really tacky, stupid looking bow tie that had cats on it. Alex unintentionally brought up the fact that he was running for president, and then he was hit with:

“Oh your posters are the greatest things! ‘Alex Gaskarth is a flaming homo so you should be one too!’ That one’s golden! I burst out laughing when I saw it the first time. Who designs them for you?” The stranger swayed slightly to the beat of whatever song was playing, somehow managing to make himself look even more stupid. Alex didn’t even think that was possible.

“My husband.” Bowtie, Alex decided that it would be a fitting name for the shorter man, burst out laughing, slapping his knee as if that was something normal people did when laughing. 

“Do you, are you-” he broke off, still laughing. “Are you really a flaming homo?” Alex decided that this guy had heard absolutely nothing about him, so he gave Bowtie a small smile that was more like a grimace. 

“Yeah. I’m gay.” He said tentatively, Alex was worried that this man might be homophobic, and only viewed the posters as a massive joke. “My husband is here somewhere, if you want to meet him.”

“What’s his name?” 

“Jack.” Bowtie brightened even more, which seemed impossible as he was already so smiley that Alex thought his face was going to split into pieces.

“Awesome! My name’s Jack too! Well it is a common name. Jack. It’s a good name, don’t you think?” Alex nodded awkwardly, giving the grimace smile again. He just didn’t really want to be there.

“Hey, dude, aren’t you running for president?” Someone yelled, poking him. Another person appeared. 

“You’re running for president?” 

“Is it that guy with the posters?” Yet another person chimed into the conversation.

“But cheating on your partner isn’t okay!” As the fourth random person shouted at him, Alex was began to feel extremely uncomfortable.

“Why are you at this shitty party if you’re famous?” That was the last straw, Alex turned away and tuned them all out, walking farther into the house, looking for Jack. Jack Barakat, his husband, not cheap bowtie Jack. 

Alex walked a bit further into the house, finding the kitchen, the alcohol was most likely there, and Jack follows alcohol like Pete Wentz follows Patrick Stump. It was a simple fact and everyone knew it, especially Alex after spending so much time with the drunken mess that he was married to. After a quick scan of the room, Alex’s suspicions were confirmed, there he was, standing in the corner of the kitchen surrounded by empty red cups, drinking even more with some stranger with really, really bad hair. It was bleached blonde and looked like a rotten lemon had figured out how to use hairspray. Wait, he wasn’t a stranger. He was famous. He should be dead. He sure as hell shouldn’t have been there drinking. Something clicked in Alex’s brain and he realized that this was Deryck Whibley from Sum 41, who really should be dead. Why was he at Matt Flyzik’s crappy house party if he was a rock star?  
But then again, why was a relatively successful presidential candidate here either? Alex couldn’t really judge Deryck’s motives.

“Alex! Have something to drink!” Jack shouted impossibly loud often the mass of people, grinning at the sight of his husband as he entered the room. 

Alex felt on edge and tense, something alcohol could definitely solve. And it wasn’t like any of these drunk people would see him and spread the pictures to the media, right? There couldn’t be that much harm one drink could do. Going off of this extremely flawed logic, Alex accepted the drink and threw it to the back of his throat. It was only then that Alex realized that in that cup was three shots worth of cheap vodka. Immediately, Alex started to feel the effects of the alcohol and began to stumble and lose his footing. This was going to be a long night.

_~half an hour later~_

“Like taking dick up the ass? Then you’ll like Alex Gaskarth! Vote Gaskarth for president!” Everyone gathered around the liquor table was howling with laughter, random people shouting out slogans to put on posters, leaving an extremely intoxicated Alex to attempt to write all of them down on a crappy napkin with an old pen that was almost out of ink. Jack had disappeared with the other Jack, and was later found out in Matt’s backyard with some pot and the stars to enjoy. Before he had wandered off, Jack was the center of attention, coming up with the most stupid slogans and laughing just as hard as everyone else at them. Alex was feeling much better, and was considering calling Mark to a) tell him all the slogans they were going to print onto signs, and b) inform him that a ride would not be necessary. Him and Jack were going to be staying for a lot longer than originally planned. 

And yes, they were going to print the slogans on signs. They were too brilliant to forget in a drunken stupor, they needed to be enjoyed by the entire world, or all at least the entire US.

 _~some time in February~_

It was cold. No, scratch that, it was really, really cold. Freezing, in fact. It was cold and somehow pretty and snowing, yet still wet and disgusting. It was Washington DC, the most beautiful city in the entire universe. 

Alex was standing before thousands of people, and millions more who were watching on TV in the safety of their homes, where it was actually warm. Bastards. He was supposed to give a moving speech that would “reinvigorate America and clear all doubt about him as president.” Or some shit like that. Sometimes, Alex really didn’t understand why he make Mark his campaign manager, and now vice president. After completing said speech, he would be inaugurated and sworn in as the president of the United States of America. What a glorious thought. 

“So!” Alex started, eyes scanning the crowd. There was someone there with a giant poster that had a dishrag on it- with his face morphed into it so he was an Alex-dishrag. It was beautiful. Alex loved his fans. Being the president actually got you more fans than you would think, and Alex was more than okay with that.

“Thanks for everyone who voted for me because of the signs I made when I was drunk!” Alex spoke into the five million microphones stacked in front of him, he felt as though this was a good way to start his speech. Rule number 1, always thank the fans.

There was a collection of cheers that were mixed with boos from the crowd. Alex simply ignored the boos and kept talking with the same gigantic cartoon-style smile plastered on his face for the entire speech, which lasted an entire fifteen minutes.

Jack Barakat stood backstage not hearing a word his husband said.

Jack Barakat was going to be the first ever First Man of the United States. 

That was pretty fucking cool.

_Fin_


End file.
